


A Little Bit Longer

by dettiot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:33:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/pseuds/dettiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three loosely-related ficlets set at the end of season 3 focusing on the emotional and sexual connection between Oliver and Felicity.  Spoilers for Arrow episodes 3x20-3x23 and The Flash 1x22.  Originally posted on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Oliver

“I love you.”

The whole time that Felicity was talking, he was listening. Listening but not necessarily believing her. Because the idea that he had made Starling City better, that he had saved people . . . rationally, he knew that he had done that. But emotionally? It wasn’t easy to remember that, not with all the ways his life was falling apart around him. 

Everything but Felicity. She was saying how much he had changed her, and he felt a wave of hope, stronger than ever before . . . 

And then she said those three words he had been hoping to hear from her. Hoping but never expecting to hear. Because he was Oliver Queen and he never got what he wanted. 

But then she said it. And that was all he needed. He knew. He believed it, believed _her_.

He couldn’t hold back. 

Reaching out, he carefully slid her glasses off, his fingers steady and sure. Revealing her to himself, with nothing between them. And then he kissed her. Kissed her like he had wanted for months. And Felicity wanted this, too. He could tell, from how she kissed him back. How she stood up and slid her jacket off, her eyes never leaving his.

And he couldn’t look away from her. After so long of having to look away, of having to find ways to not be caught by her--he could look at her as much as he wanted. And oh, how he _wanted_. 

Without looking away from her, he pushed off his jacket and pulled his shirt over his head. Feeling like it was the first time she had seen him like this. Because he didn’t have any of his masks anymore. 

He was just Oliver. And for some reason, that was enough for Felicity. 

Rising to his feet, watching Felicity’s gaze track his movements, he reached for her top, pulling it up over her head, immediately leaning in to kiss her. Needing her closer. His hands reached down, fluttering over her ass--oh, he needed more time to touch her--before he hoisted her up with one hand. She was so small, and he never thought about it because she was Felicity and she took up so much room in his life, but he was pretty sure he would wrap his hands around her waist. 

Or only need one arm to carry her towards the bed, his hand cupping her high on her thigh, pressing against the bottom of one firm, round cheek of her amazing ass. 

Her hands were stroking his shoulders, her fingers smoothing over his scars without hesitation. Even lingering, making him draw the hand on her back up towards her shoulder, trying to touch her own scar. The one she had gotten saving Sara, the one that had scared him so much that he hadn’t been able to hold back when she had babbled about being ‘his girl’ while on the special aspirin. 

She would always be his girl. Always and forever. 

Sitting on the bed and then immediately laying back, Oliver gazed up at Felicity, straddling his thighs and running her hands over his chest. Once again touching his scars, touching all the markings on him that showed what he had gone through. He smoothed his thumbs over the creases where her thighs met her hips, loving how she looked, needing her so much. 

It was moments of kissing and touching, rising up to meet her lips and never looking away from her eyes. Feeling her hands in his hair and nearly wanting to purr at the sensation--something he had never done before.

“Felicity,” he murmured softly against her lips, wanting to say her name. Wanting her to know she was everything, but not having the words right now to say all of that. Hoping the way he said her name was enough. 

Her smile was soft and warm and told him she knew. And then she reached behind her back and undid her bra, pulling it away, and Oliver felt his heart speed up. 

God, she was beautiful. Beautiful in the way she revealed herself, opening up to him and making him feel like this wasn’t the end. Because he refused to accept that this was a goodbye or an ending. 

Oliver lifted his head to kiss her, his hands smoothing over her back without anything to break up the expanse of perfect, warm skin. Only the silk of her hair, so soft in spite of the hair dye she used, and that was perfect, too. His hands covered so much of her, and he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never let her go. To always be pressed up against her--

Oh, fuck, she was rocking her hips against him. 

His brain nearly shorted out, one hand sliding down and over her ass before he gripped her hip. He needed more. He wanted everything. 

Wrapping his other arm around her, he lifted and turned her, moving them to lie back against the pillows. There was only time for a glimpse of her hair, spread out against the deep red of the bedding, before he kissed her hungrily. No more chaste kisses to her forehead or sweet kisses to her mouth. No, he opened his mouth and sucked on her lower lip, slid his tongue into her mouth for a moment to brush against hers, before he turned to kiss her neck.

And the whole time, he was rocking himself against her, wishing he had taken his pants off, too, because the friction was killing him. Especially with how she was rolling up against him, her hands gripping his shoulders and then smoothing around to stroke his collarbone. Fierceness and tenderness--that was Felicity. 

His Felicity. 

He kissed her again, his tongue now stroking against hers, the sensations starting to sweep him away. His hand was sliding along the waistband of her pants, and then he dipped his fingers under the fabric to lightly stroke her stomach. 

“Yes--Oliver, yes,” she panted against his lips. Her hands ran down his sides, then tugged at his own pants. “Need these off now.” 

Unable to help himself, he smiled and lifted his head a little. “Me, too,” he said, pressing his cock as hard as he could against her. 

“Ohhhh,” she moaned, even as her eyes sparked with humor. “That--that was a dirty trick.”

Grinning back at her, he pushed himself up a little so he could undo her trousers. If his brain had been working, he would have made some joke about things only beginning to get dirty, or ask about all the innuendos and double entendres she had let slip over the years. But he was much more focused on getting Felicity naked right now. 

And Felicity, being the amazing, remarkable genius that she was, seemed equally focused. With how her hands immediately popped the button on his pants, lowered the zipper, and slid her hand inside to cup him through his boxer-briefs. 

Oliver’s eyes closed, his hands pressed against the bed to hold himself upright, even as he shook a little. Because she was sliding her fingers against him slowly, peppering his shoulders and chest with kisses as she touched him, and he was going to explode. 

And he had plans, God damn it. Years of fantasies and months of prolonged thinking about what he wanted to do with and to Felicity Meghan Smoak. Coming first was involved in none of that. 

She had already accused him of playing dirty. She had no idea. 

Mirroring her, Oliver finished opening her pants. But instead of cupping her through her panties, he immediately slid his hand inside her underwear, his fingers slipping against her folds from how wet she was. 

Felicity’s hand pressed hard against him and her mouth opened in an O. Oliver swallowed, his jaw tense, as he stroked her. “Felicity . . .” he gritted out.

The tiny whimper she let out, combined with how she arched her hips so she would press against his hand, made him wonder how he was going to wait any longer. 

But he didn’t have to wait. 

“Now,” he said, using his knees to hold him up and keep his hand against her as he lifted his other hand from the bed and yanked at her pants and underwear. 

“Yes,” she said in agreement or affirmation, Oliver didn’t know. All he knew was that she was helping him get the last of her clothing off, that he had his hand between her legs, and then she sat up to help push his pants down and God, now he had more access and he couldn’t help sliding a finger inside her. 

“Oliver,” she breathed out, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him on top of her. He pulled his hand away regretfully but knowing that before tonight was over, he’d go back to sliding his fingers inside her. Right now, he had to kiss her as he helped her push his pants and boxers off the rest of the way.

They were naked now. Naked and fully revealed, and Felicity’s eyes were so blue and warm and bright, he felt like he was looking into the sun. 

He had just started to move his hips so he could finally, finally, be with the woman he loved, when he paused. “Felicity--condoms?” 

“It’s okay--I get the shot, I’m okay,” she said, holding on to his shoulders tightly.

Nodding, he leaned in to kiss her, for just a moment. Because as soon as he slid into her, he knew his life would change. It wouldn’t be about pre-island and post-island anymore. It wouldn’t have the same hold on him as pre-Felicity and post-Felicity. 

And that was something he needed a second to fix in his mind. When his life changed. 

But then Felicity took hold of him and drew him inside her, her eyes falling shut. And Oliver felt everything in the world go still and silent and perfect as he became wrapped up in her. 

Oliver rested his forehead against hers, holding his breath as he waited for her to adjust, waited for her to look at him. 

When she opened her eyes, he couldn’t help it. He smiled at her. And she smiled back, and then he had to kiss her. He couldn’t stop kissing her, running his lips over her neck and cheek and chin, and most of all kissing her lips, in all the ways he had dreamed of. Even as he started thrusting, pulling out and then sliding back into her, his pace steady and focused. 

At the same time, she was meeting every one of his thrusts, she was touching him everywhere she could reach, and she was kissing him back. God, she kissed him back, and moaned, and her face was so full of passion and love and he was going to lose it. 

He picked up the pace and Felicity moaned and pulled him in for a kiss and he could feel her tightening around him, his body responding and--

“Oliver!” Felicity gasped, her body trembling and jerking as she climaxed. And it was the best thing that he had ever felt, better than he had ever imagined, and her release triggered his own, and _that_ was the best thing he had ever felt. Definitely tied for first. And he couldn’t believe he was practically babbling, like Felicity did, in his head as he slumped down, half-covering her with his body.

For the first time in perhaps years, Oliver spent several moments completely unaware of his surroundings. As long as Felicity didn’t move, he was fine with staying in this bubble for a little longer.

Just a little longer. 

End.


	2. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written prior to episode 3x21 airing, so there are discrepancies.

Every time she walked into the Foundry, her heels always echoed in the space. The high ceilings, all the cement: of course her footsteps sounded loud. Or maybe it was because she didn’t have extensive vigilante training in how to do that silent stalk kind of thing, like Oliver--

Swallowing, Felicity continued her descent into the lair, her boot heels thudding against the metal stairs and sounding even louder than normal. 

Because without the hum of her computers and the buzz of the overhead lights, without the muffling qualities of the tables set up just so and the glass cases holding one green costume and one red costume, any sound was like a gunshot in the middle of the night. 

She shouldn’t be here. John would be really unhappy that she came here on her own, after they had spent earlier today cleaning out the space. Packing up what the SCPD had left behind, gathering the items that the police had overlooked but were important to them. The few random photographs, taken on her phone and printed out on non-glossy paper, the gray hoodie that Oliver sometimes wore . . . 

It had been nearly three weeks. Three weeks without any word from Oliver, without any sign of movement by Ra’s al Ghul against them. And why would he? He had what he wanted--what he had always wanted.

He had Oliver. 

Rubbing a hand over her eyes, Felicity set down the electric lantern she had brought with her and switched it on. There was no power in the old steel factory now; Thea had closed Verdant for good and tomorrow they would be starting work on their new base. 

But before then, she wanted to say goodbye to the first place that had felt like home to her in so many years. The home, she admitted, that she had always felt she had built with Oliver. Yes, of course, there was John and Roy, Sara and Laurel--they had all been part of what happened in this damp basement. 

But it was different with her and Oliver. All the nights spent down here, just the two of them. When she worked on her computers and he trained, neither of them having any place else to go. John had always done his best to keep some distance, to preserve something outside the Foundry. 

Felicity had no such desire. She liked being in the Foundry. At first she hadn’t. At first, when she had signed on, she had hated the lack of task lighting, the weird smell, the dampness that sunk into your bones. But once she had renovated the space, after the Undertaking . . . it was home. More of a home than her apartment was. 

Tonight was her only chance to say goodbye to this place. So even though it was incredibly stupid to be here alone, she had to come. 

Walking over, she righted her spinny chair and sat down. A shaft of light was in her eyes, and she backed the chair up a little, the wheels crunching over some glass. 

And then there was another noise. 

Freezing, Felicity tried not to breathe too loudly. There was every chance that it was a rat; they used to get ones the size of poodles and much less cute. With the building left unattended and open to the elements, rats were the most likely explanation.

But the way the hair has gone up on the back of her neck told Felicity that it wasn’t rats.

There was someone in here.

Someone that she couldn’t help hoping was Oliver. Because she missed him, she didn’t know what to think, and this wasn’t like the other times Oliver was gone, like after the Undertaking or even when they believed him to be dead. Those other times, she hadn’t put her heart into his hands and asked him to keep it safe. 

Although whoever it was, sitting here like this was probably the last thing she should have done. Grimacing a little, Felicity rose to her feet. “Hello?” she said quietly, her voice steady. “I know you’re there, so you might as well come out.” 

The silence was so thick, it felt like it was pressing down on her. And then, the darkness at the far side of the lair moved. Moved and came towards her, as her heart beat faster. 

The figure was clothed all in black, an oversized hood camouflaging their face. But Felicity knew who it was. Knew from the moment he started moving towards her. 

It was Oliver. He was here, in the place that was theirs, and it had to mean something, even if he was in the League and the Heir to the Demon, after God only knew what he had been through in the last three weeks, right? 

“Oliver,” she breathed out, reaching up to push back his hood. 

Her wrist was caught in a grip of steel, tight enough that she nearly cried out. 

“I am Al Sah-Him.” 

The voice that spoke from beneath the hood wasn’t Oliver’s. It wasn’t like his Arrow voice, either. It was like the one he had used in Nanda Parbat, when he woke up and dismissed the League members chasing after them. At the time, she thought it was because of the drugs in his system that his voice was so raspy.

But it appeared it was a conscious choice on his part. A choice that she didn’t understand. Why adopt a new voice? And . . . and why did it make her stomach tighten and her knees feel weak? 

“You’re Oliver,” she said stubbornly, lifting her chin and looking at him. “Oliver Queen. Your birthday is May 16th, which makes you a Taurus, by the way. Not that I believe in astrology, but--but you hate storms and swimming. Your sister’s name is Thea and you love her so much.” Felicity paused, wondering how much farther she should go. And then she was talking. 

“Nine months ago, we had our first kiss in the hallway of the hospital, the day that Sara was born. And three weeks ago, we had our second kiss, when we made love in Nanda Parbat. After I told you I love you.” 

Oliver let go of her wrist and took a step back from her. She didn’t let him move away, though. She took two steps towards him. “I love you, Oliver. You’re still Oliver Queen, underneath all of this.” She gestured at his League garb, the thick black fabric and the hood. “This doesn’t change who you are.” 

“You are wrong,” he said, his voice firm and fixed. Like he got when he thought he was right. But the harder he protested, the more Felicity knew that he knew he was wrong. 

Never let it be said that she didn’t know Oliver Queen down to his bones. 

“Prove it,” she said, knowing she was playing with fire as soon as the words left her mouth. The idea had blossomed in her mind, turning into a full-fledged plan in the blink of an eye. “Kiss me. And if you aren’t Oliver any more, I’ll know then.” 

A voice that sounded like John’s told her how crazy this idea was. How if Oliver really was Al Sah-Him now, kissing her wouldn’t change that. And it might lead to something that was more deadly than a broken heart. 

But Felicity didn’t believe that voice. Didn’t believe that Oliver-- _her_ Oliver--was gone for good. Maybe he was buried away, under the layers of psychological trauma inflicted upon him by Ra’s. Three weeks was enough to get brainwashed, wasn’t it? Felicity didn’t know and wished she had her tablet with her to research this. 

But all she had was her stubbornness and her refusal to let Oliver leave without revealing his true self. And the fastest way she could think to do that was kissing him. 

Even if it would burn in her soul, like the memory of their other kisses did. Too few kisses. 

There wasn’t enough light to illuminate his face under that hood. There was some kind of mask covering his lower face and mouth, so she couldn’t read his emotions in his jaw. But from the way he held himself . . . she thought he was slightly confused. Not sure what to do . . . or perhaps struggling between two opposing desires? Carry out his orders from Ra’s versus accepting the offer she had made him.

They stood there in silence, time stretching out like a chewy piece of caramel, the kind you find at the bottom of your Halloween pumpkin underneath the gross candy that you’re left with after you’ve eaten all the good stuff. And then, Oliver lifted his gloved hand and removed the mask, setting it down silently on the table by the lantern. 

Her breath rushed out, the blood rushing in her ears. He was going to kiss her. 

Felicity wasn’t sure what to expect as he lowered his head. When he paused, his lips an inch away from hers, she didn’t know why he was waiting. With that hood still on, she couldn’t see his eyes. 

And then it hit her. He was waiting for her to lift up and come the rest of the way. Just like he had done in Nanda Parbat. 

It wasn’t exactly what she had told him to do. But since she already had her answer, Felicity surged up onto her toes and pressed her mouth against his. 

At the first touch of his lips, she could feel the change in him. Whatever grip Ra’s had over him, their kiss broke it. And she knew that Al Sah-Him was gone. Maybe only for now, but Felicity was too distracted from all the questions and fears by the simple, perfect pleasure of kissing Oliver. 

Her Oliver. 

He was so greedy. He sucked harshly on her lower lip, slid his tongue against hers, tugged on her ponytail to pull her head back before yanking the holder out and letting her hair fall free. His movements were a bit rough, more fierce and desperate, and Felicity found her body responding more than she imagined she would. 

When his mouth moved to her neck, it wasn’t with gentle kisses and soft licks. No, this time, he latched onto the spot behind her ear, the spot that he knew drove her crazy. And he sucked, so hard, and scraped his teeth over her skin. 

Felicity had to hold on to him, so she wouldn’t just drop to the floor due to her completely unsteady legs. Her hands squeezed his biceps as he kept up his attack. She would have the _biggest_ hickey there tomorrow, but oh, she didn’t care, she didn’t care, she had Oliver and he was here and he was still hers, she hadn’t lost him, not all the way--

Her hands flexed on his biceps, then she moved them to run over his chest. It wasn’t just about feeling him up: it was checking for injuries and searching for the fastenings on his robe. Looking for just how she could get him out of this five pounds of fabric and touch him. Run her fingers over his chest, lick the sweat that collected along his collarbone, press her ear against his Bratva tattoo and hear his heart beat. 

To her shock, he yanked his head away from her, breathing hard. “No,” he said, his voice closer to Oliver’s. “I have to keep those on.”

She looked up at him, feeling disappointed. And worried. And really wishing she could see his face. “What about the hood?”

With her hands on his chest, she could feel the way his breathing changed for a moment. How he took one deep breath. And she didn’t know if he was going to pull away, to leave her here, giving her only a sip of water after days of crossing the desert. A sip was all she needed. 

But she was just as greedy as Oliver. She wanted to drown. 

And then, he lifted his hands and pushed the hood back, revealing himself to her. His hair was cropped close to his scalp. There was a thin slice of a wound running along the side of his neck, like from a sword being pressed too close. 

For the briefest of seconds, she hesitated before looking into his eyes. Certain she would see him but wondering how she would cope if she didn’t. If it wasn’t Oliver after all, and this was all some trick--

No. 

Felicity looked into his eyes and she found him. And she couldn’t help smiling, and even though he didn’t smile back, she knew he was happy. Happy to see her, happy to be here with her in their home, happy to have this moment. 

“Oliver,” she whispered, pulling on his robes and kissing him hungrily. As soon as their lips connected, he took over. It was hard, intense; she felt like he was staking a claim to her. Which was pointless, because she was already his. 

But this was so hot and so good and it had been nearly three weeks since the best night of her life, and she was on fire for him and she _needed_ him, needed this connection between them, no matter if it was dark and full of unspoken things. 

Because they were still an _us_. Just like in Nanda Parbat. 

His strong hands slid down her back to her ass, cupping her, squeezing her flesh and making her choke back a moan as he kept kissing her. She didn’t think she could wait very long to have him inside her. And she didn’t know how long he had with her.

Now she wished she had worn a skirt or a dress, so he could have just slid inside her. Between boots and jeans, this might be tricky--

And then she felt his hands--when had he lost his gloves?--brushing against her stomach, and she realized he had undone her jeans without her realizing it. 

“Oh, God, Oliver--” she choked out. 

There was a whisper of air, something that might be one of those little huffs of laughter he let out sometimes, brushing over her neck. And then he was sucking on the spot where her neck met her shoulder, sucking so hard as his fingers traced delicate patterns over her stomach, and it was such a contrast and not at all what she was expecting and this was killing her. She needed to touch his skin, needed to leave her mark on him. 

It couldn’t be a visible mark. She knew that. But if she could only have a place on his soul and his heart, she would. 

So she peppered his face with kisses, tiny and soft and delicate. She paid close attention to the sword wound, wishing she could heal it with her lips. She stroked his jawline, savoring the stubble that was still there, and ran her hands over his skull. She missed having the hair to sink her fingers into, knew they had shaved his head to remove his identity, but his hair didn’t make him Oliver. And it didn’t change that he was still the hottest and the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

“Felicity.” 

He said her name. Oliver saying her name, in that special way that made the four syllables seem so unique and important, made her knees go weak. Made her cling to his robes. 

“Oliver,” she whispered. 

His eyes met hers in the dimness. And without any words, without anything needing to be said, they were on the same page. 

Felicity stepped back and pushed her jacket off, then whipped her shirt over her head. She toed off her boots, bracing herself against Oliver, who wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a hot, hard kiss. The fabric of his robes was heavy and soft against her bare belly, and unbelievably erotic. She would always want Oliver naked, to feel his skin against hers, but this--this worked.

“Felicity,” he said again, his voice deep as he whispered her name into her ear. 

Finally getting her boots off, she took her bra off and arched her back so her whole front was pressed against him. Letting her finally feel the proof of how she affected him. “Oliver,” she said, before she sucked on his lower lip. Sucked hard, before giving in to her urge and lightly nipping his plump lip. 

Oliver groaned and his hands went to her waist, pushing at her jeans. Felicity felt a flare of heat at hearing him, getting another sign of this was her Oliver, even if he--oh!

Her jeans had been shoved down over her hips, her panties taken with them. Oliver slid his arm under her ass, lifting her up easily as he carried her towards a pillar. And with his free hand, he pulled her pants off the rest of the way, leaving her completely naked. 

God, feeling his strength, seeing it in action, would never fail to turn her on. She gripped his shoulders and slid her legs around his ribcage carefully, watching his face for any sign of discomfort, any indication that he was injured. 

But all she saw was lust and desire and all of his love for her and Felicity felt the tension inside her ratchet up another notch. 

He rocked his groin against hers and Felicity let go of his shoulders, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply, her tongue stroking against his. She could feel the tiny shudder that went through him and she ran her hands over the back of his head. “Now, Oliver,” she whispered, rolling her hips against him. Hoping she wasn’t leaving evidence of her desire for him all over his clothing. 

One of his hands slid between her legs, making her whimper as he touched her. He kissed her slowly, intimately, building the fire inside her. 

The pillar was cold against her back, the fabric of Oliver’s clothing rubbed against her skin, and everything felt magnified by the darkness around them. She felt overstimulated, like her body was one giant nerve and the slightest touch would cause pleasure or pain. 

There was a few soft rustles, and she realized Oliver had opened his robes enough to free his cock. She only half managed to hold back the gasp of relief as she felt him bump against her entrance. 

And then, without any other delay, he slid inside her in one smooth stroke. 

“Ahhhhh,” she called out, closing her eyes as her head dropped back against the pillar. Because he filled her so perfectly, stretched her just the right amount, and oh, she was _not_ going to last long. 

Neither was Oliver, though. Because as soon as her wordless cry escaped her, he started moving. His hips pistoned his thick cock in and out of her, his fingers alternated between gripping her hips and sliding underneath her to palm her ass, and his mouth sucked hickeys over the tops of her breasts. 

“Oliver, Oliver, yes, right there, oooooh . . .” she babbled breathlessly, unable to hold back. Not wanting to hold back, for once glad for her tendency to talk and talk and talk. Because she wanted him to remember this, to remember her voice, in the days ahead. Until he could come back to her. 

He scraped his teeth over the slope of her breast, the sensation sending sparks through her body and all of them settling in her groin. “Oliver!” she yelped, holding on to him tighter and feeling herself clench around him. He groaned and did it again, and oh, God, _yes_ \--

Felicity came hard, her vision whiting out as her body vibrated against his. And Oliver, so strong and protective and hers, all hers, held her tightly, keeping her safe, loving her. 

When she finally came back to her senses, it was to Oliver driving into her, slamming his hips and going so deep, without any kind of rhythm. He was close, she knew it. She stroked her hand over the top of his head and kissed him hungrily, still not sated but knowing he needed to climax. 

“Oliver, I love you,” she said against his lips, lifting herself up and then pressing down as he thrust inside her, drawing him so deeply inside her that she wished he would never leave. 

And a raging fire engulfed them both as Oliver came, setting off a small aftershock of an orgasm within Felicity, one that made her close her eyes and moan. 

His arms held her tightly, his hands pressed against her lower back. His face was against her neck, and every panting exhale made her still-sensitive body tingle. But she didn’t want him to move. 

Because once he moved . . . 

She took a deep breath and smoothed her hands over his head, one last time. No. Not one last time. Like before, this wasn’t a goodbye. She hadn’t lost him. This was a . . . a moment, a reminder. Of everything that was waiting for them, as soon as they had finished their jobs. Oliver to survive until he could take out Ra’s al Ghul and Felicity to destroy the League with all her hacker skills. 

They could do this. They would do this, and then . . . then they were totally going away somewhere. Or just going radio silent for a day. A few days. A week. A week wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? Maybe two weeks. 

“Two weeks, minimum.” 

Oliver’s voice was soft and amused and he sounded like Oliver. And that was everything. 

So Felicity just smiled and stroked his head again before she carefully moved her legs from around his torso, dropping to the ground. He helped her, making sure she was steady before letting go. 

Away from the heat of his body, Felicity shivered and held up one finger. “One second,” she said, quickly stepping away to get her t-shirt and panties. She rushed, not wanting him to leave without--well, she didn’t know what she wanted. But she wasn’t ready for him to leave yet. 

Once she had clothes on and ran her hands through her hair, Felicity took a deep breath and turned to Oliver. He was even standing like himself now, his shoulders relaxed and his arms at his sides. 

Slowly, she walked towards him, coming to a stop in front of him. Feeling tears threaten, because yet again, he had to leave. Trying to hold back all those memories of the other times men had left her, of the times Oliver had left her. 

But he kept coming back. Against all odds. So maybe this was just what they did: left and came back. At least for now. 

“Same rules as before?” she asked, gazing up at him. 

Oliver nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “We’re not saying goodbye.” 

“Okay,” she said softly, before she went up on her tiptoes to kiss him. It was warm and soft and a little sad, but also so full of sweetness that she really did think she was going to cry.

He might be wearing those robes, he might act like Al Sah-Him, but Felicity Smoak knew that really, underneath it all, he was still Oliver Queen. 

And someday soon, he would come back to her. 

They just needed to hold out for a little bit longer. 

Just a bit longer. 

End.


	3. A Princess Bride Situation

His heart was pounding and he was nearly out of breath, but Oliver didn’t care. He couldn’t stop kissing Felicity. Because now he could kiss her as much as he wanted--he could kiss her all the time and never stop, and he really couldn’t believe it. 

And tomorrow they were going away together, but tonight--tonight, they were going to make up for the restrained touching they had done while the crisis was going on. 

By having as much sex as possible in the next eighteen hours. 

Then Felicity pulled back from him, panting, and said, “Oliver--Oliver, wait.” 

“What? What is it?” he asked, blinking at her. 

She pressed her lips together, looking worried. “You’re . . . married. Kinda. And Nyssa is going back to Nanda Parbat and Malcolm’s the new Ra’s and how is it going to work out for her? I mean--she’s not going to have to marry Malcolm, is she?”

Swallowing, Oliver loosened his arms around her without letting her go. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before he spoke. “Now that Malcolm is Ra’s, Nyssa will have to swear allegiance to him. I think she will, but I know she wants to lead the League. So . . . a power struggle seems inevitable.” 

Felicity still looked worried, so he kept going. “Honestly? My money’s on Nyssa. She has a lot more supporters than Malcolm. I think she’ll be okay. And if she’s in trouble, she knows she has help.” He gave Felicity a small smile. “Like I knew I had help.”

“You’re still not totally off the hook for that air-quotes plan, mister,” Felicity said, her hands lightly stroking along the line of his shoulders. “And you avoided the bigger problem: you’re married.” 

He let his head drop for a moment as he took a deep breath. “According to the League, yes, I am.” He hated having to say that, hated having to face the reality of the situation. Because he could imagine what Felicity would say next: that she let herself get carried away in the heat of the moment, after her rescue of him and his declaration, and now that she was thinking clearly, she didn’t think it was a good idea for them to be physically intimate. And he understood--he did. He would never ask Felicity to do something she thought was wrong or made her uncomfortable. 

“I just never thought I’d be the other woman,” she said softly, biting her lower lip. 

“You’re the only woman,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. And now that they were out, he kept going. “You’re the only woman I want, Felicity. I’m sorry about everything--I didn’t want to hurt you, I never wanted to marry Nyssa and it’s not real to me, but--”

Felicity’s lips against his own stopped his apology. It took him a moment to realize what she was doing, and then he was the one to pull away. “Felicity?” he asked, feeling very confused. 

“I’m taking a chance that this won’t bite me in the ass, but if you’re saying we’re in a Princess Bride situation here, I’m--I’m willing to go with that until you can get this straightened out,” Felicity said, holding on to his shoulders tightly. 

“A--a Princess Bride situation?”

“‘You didn’t say it, so you didn’t do it’,” Felicity explained. “As long as you didn’t say ‘I do’ you’re not really married.” 

Oliver felt his eyes go wide as he figured it out. As he realized the gift that Felicity was giving him. Giving them. 

“I didn’t say a word during the ceremony,” Oliver said, looking into her eyes. “Because there’s only one woman I’d say those words to.” 

Her face flushed, but she smiled at him and her eyes were so bright behind her glasses, Oliver felt his hands spasm against her hips. “Okay. So kiss me.” 

Thanks to Thea, Oliver had seen The Princess Bride a few times--not enough to memorize it, but certainly enough to know what he should say now. “As you wish,” Oliver said softly, lowering his head towards her.

So Felicity was laughing a little as he kissed her, and he knew he wanted to do nothing but make her laugh, to make her smile, to make her happy, for as long as he could.

Maybe for fifty-six years or so. 

The frenzied nature of before had faded a little thanks to their conversation, making these kisses slower--but also deeper and more intimate. And they made the fire inside him burn even hotter. Because he had lost a lot of time gazing at Felicity’s lips, wondering if her tongue was talented at more than just talking. Their one night in Nanda Parbat hadn’t been enough to fully answer those questions for him, but he was going to get closer to an answer tonight. 

But then she moaned and ran her hand over his head, and no kiss was enough. 

“Felicity, show me your bedroom,” he said against her lips, his voice deeper than normal. 

“Yes. Definitely time for the bedroom,” Felicity said, smiling at him and pulling him away from the front door of her apartment. 

He smiled back at her and let his hands wander over her, dipping underneath her tank top, trying to get at her skin. Felicity’s hands did the same, her breathing getting faster, and Oliver felt his heart picking up again. 

They were moving too damn slowly. 

His hands slid down and scooped her up, cupping her perfect ass. She gasped and wrapped her arms around him. “Second door on the right!” she said quickly before she leaned in and kissed along his jaw, her breath hot against his skin. 

Without any more delay, Oliver covered the distance, even if his knees shook a little from what she was doing to his neck. And then they were in her bedroom, and he was gently settling her on her bed before he reached for her boots. 

Felicity propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him, blinking. “Oliver?” 

“I have plans for you,” he said, looking at her as he pulled off one boot. “Lots of plans, Felicity.” 

Seeing the shudder go through her made him grin and undress her even faster, getting the second boot off and stripping off her pants as she pulled her tank top over her head. “Okay,” she said, falling back onto the bed. “But I’ve got plans, too, and we are definitely gonna try them out before we leave.” 

“Definitely,” he said, pressing a kiss to her stomach. He began to kiss down her body, easing her legs apart. “I love you, Felicity.” 

Her hand brushed against the top of his head, making him look up at her. She gave him a soft smile. “I love you, too.” 

And he couldn’t help smiling at her, couldn’t look away from her, as he lowered his mouth to her center and tasted her. 

“Ohhhhh . . .” Felicity moaned, her head falling back against the bed. 

Their first time together, there hadn’t been enough time for him to be as thorough as he wanted with going down on her. After a few minutes, the need to be inside her again had taken over and he had crawled up her body and sunk into her as deeply as he could. But tonight he wanted to explore her. Make her realize the commitment he was making to her, in every way that he could. 

Oliver slid his tongue through her folds, lapping at her softly. His fingers stroked the creases where her legs met her torso, smoothing over her mound and marveling at how soft her skin was. She was soft all over, but he couldn’t stop touching her there. 

She rocked her hips a little, squirming against the bed, and Oliver brought his tongue against her clit. And that made a loud gasp escape Felicity, and her hand flew out and held on to the back of his head. “Yes--don’t stop,” she panted. 

This was supposed to be long and leisurely, but Oliver had to agree with her. And then he remembered that they had time, and the realization was just as startling as it had been the first time, and he couldn’t help grinning before he wrapped his lips around her clit and started to suck. 

“Oh, yes, Oliver!” Felicity said, her voice louder than it had been in Nanda Parbat. He slid a finger inside her, stroking in time with his sucks, and she started up a chorus of babble, her voice getting louder and louder and almost echoing in her small room. And God, having her talk, without restraint and at the top of her voice, made him harder than he had ever been before. 

So he went faster, adding another finger and sucking harder, and her hips moved against his face and she was so wet, she was dripping, and it was the sexiest, most amazing thing he had ever seen. And then she came, her whole body arching, and she let out this half-gasp, half-groan that was so damn hot. 

Lifting himself up, Oliver sat back and watched Felicity come down from her high, resisting the urge to swirl his tongue around his lips and chin and cheeks to catch the last of her juices. Instead, he swiped his hand over the lower part of his face, gathering the moisture, and then watched her as he slowly licked each drop from his hand. 

Halfway through, Felicity’s eyes opened and she realized what he was doing. Her eyes flared with heat and she snapped her fingers. “Clothes off, now. Get on your back. We are not done.” 

Oliver smirked as he finished licking his hand. “I sure hope not.” 

“Don’t make me attack you,” Felicity said, getting her arms underneath herself and pushing herself up clumsily. 

“Maybe I want you to,” he said, yanking at the fastenings on his shirt and pulling it over his head. “Maybe that was why I went shirtless so often.” He grinned widely at her as he tossed aside the shirt and went to work on his pants.

“All you needed to do was smile at me. Just like that,” she said, pointing at his face. 

The amount of love he had for her doubled, or maybe tripled, and Oliver got undressed faster than he ever had before. In the meanwhile, Felicity lifted herself up onto her knees. As soon as his back hit the mattress, she was straddling him, leaning in to kiss him hungrily. 

His hands roamed over her back and sides before moving around to cup her breasts, drawing a sigh from Felicity. “Yes . . .” 

“You’re beautiful,” he said, catching her mouth to kiss her.

Felicity wrapped her arms around him and swiveled her hips, making him groan. Because she was so close, but he could tell she wanted to be in charge, and he just had to hope she wouldn’t make him suffer before giving him bliss. 

Which was a dumb thing to think, Oliver realized as she started rolling a condom over him--a condom that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Because this was Felicity. She was only bliss to him. 

And then she sank down on him, taking him deep, and Oliver felt his mind fall away, leaving him with a single thought.

He didn’t have to settle for a little bit longer. They had the rest of their lives. 

XXX

It was criminal how good this felt. How good Oliver made her feel. How he filled her up and made her feel whole. 

Even when things were still a little bit uncertain. Because he was still kinda married and she had no idea where they were going to go or what they were going to do. But as long as she was with Oliver, nothing was as scary as it could be. 

He would keep her safe, and she would protect him, and together they were unstoppable. 

And that made her smile and brought her back to what she wanted to be focusing on: riding Oliver Queen to within an inch of his life. Because _yes_.

Leaning forward, pressing one hand against the bed beside Oliver’s head, Felicity rolled her hips. She looked into his eyes, keeping him pinned under her gaze. “Don’t close your eyes,” she whispered. “Don’t look away. I want to see you, Oliver.” 

His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Felicity nearly groaned. She kissed him deeply but quickly before pulling back and meeting his eyes again. “I mean it,” she said, stroking his chest. “Look at me.” 

“Y-yes--Felicity--” he said, his voice raspy and deep and really, really hot. 

The eye contact ratcheted up the fire in her core, made her feel like she was burning up from the inside out. Oliver couldn’t help jerking his hips, doing his best to meet her thrusts. And she loved that she was making him lose control. That he felt safe with her. 

Because he was _hers_. No one else’s. She was staking a claim to him, letting her heart fly free and not think about the logic or reason of the situation. 

She lifted herself up, then slammed down, gasping at how much deeper she was able to take him. “Yes . . . oh, that’s happening again,” she muttered, repeating the same move and drawing a groan from Oliver. Who wasn’t looking away. His eyes were wide and open and so full of love that she wanted to cry. 

But she had spent too much time crying lately. She wanted to laugh right now. Smile and laugh and be happy. 

So she gave him a little smirk, and this time, she pulled herself up fast, and slowly slid down onto his cock. “You like it slow, Oliver? Or fast?” 

A moan was her only answer, so she raised herself up again and then hovered, her whole body trembling from physical exertion and extreme lust. She looked into his eyes and said slowly, “How do you want it, Oliver? You just have to ask me.” 

Felicity dropped an inch and then lifted back up, and she could almost see his brain short-circuit. His chest was heaving and he opened and closed his mouth as he seemed to search for the words. She might have fucked all the words out of him, she thought giddily. 

“Fast!” he finally blurted out, and no sooner had the word left his mouth then Felicity began bouncing on him. Her thighs burned--she really needed to do more time on the elliptical--but it was worth it, it didn’t matter, not compared to how Oliver’s hands were gripping the bedsheets and he was continually groaning and gasping as she moved up and down, up and down, up and down--

“Felicity!” he cried out, his hands flying to her hips and holding her in place as he climaxed. Yet somehow, with all that inner strength he had--which was way more impressive than the outer strength--he didn’t look away from her, and seeing his eyes go hazy and dark made her body shiver and fall apart. 

And then she fell forward, collapsing on top of him, and everything felt right. 

For a few minutes, they just laid together, the sweat cooling on their skin, their breathing starting to even out. Felicity snuggled in against Oliver, enjoying his body heat, and he lazily wrapped his arms around her. 

“Mmmmm,” she murmured, turning her head and kissing the first patch of skin her lips encountered. “More of that, please.” 

His laughter rumbled through his chest. “Just gimme a minute,” he said. “Need to recover a bit more.” 

“Lies, all lies,” Felicity said, tilting her head back enough to look at him. “You’re a god among men and have a miniscule refractory period.”

Oliver smirked, which really shouldn’t work for her but did, and then kissed her lightly before looking at her. The smirk was gone, replaced with a soft, slightly-shy smile. “Thanks for the compliment, even if it’s not true. And if there’s any gods in this bed, it’s you.” 

It was on the tip of her tongue to scoff at him, but something about the smile on his face that made her stop. Made her not speak. 

“You--you’re beautiful,” he said, brushing back some of her hair. “But even more than that . . . you’re strong and you make the world brighter, no matter how dark things look.” He pressed his lips together, his eyes shimmering for a moment. “Sounds like a goddess to me.” 

She was not going to cry. “Just--just as long as that doesn’t mean you think I’m perfect,” she said, her mouth fumbling to express the half-formed thought in her mind. “If you think I’m wrong, I want you to tell me. Like I tell you.” 

“Are you worried I’m going to let you walk all over me?” Oliver asked, raising his eyebrows. “I think we both know I’m too stubborn for that.” 

“God, you are stubborn,” she said, grinning at him and kissing him quickly. Feeling relieved that he could see her point. “Okay, yeah, no walking all over each other. No more suicide missions,” she said, pinning him with her gaze. “And I think we’ll be good.” 

He nodded, smiling at her as he stroked her arm. Then he turned his head around, looking around the room. “So this is your bedroom.” 

“Yep,” she said, kissing his jaw and then his cheek. “A room I’ve wanted you to see for a very long time.” 

“I’ve wanted to see it, too,” Oliver replied, holding her face as he kissed her slowly. 

Felicity felt herself melt against him. He really knew how to kiss. She would be perfectly happy if they spent the next several days just kissing. 

Although she would be even more happy to do more than kiss. 

Propping herself up on one arm, she ran her hand up and down his torso, marveling at the amazing textures under her fingers. Not from the scar tissue, but just the feel of his skin. It was addictive. She wanted to touch him all over.

And she could now. He was hers, after all.

Oliver didn’t do much other than stroke his thumb over her shoulder, moving back and forth over her skin. His eyes were soft and slightly unfocused, his lips quirked up in a small smile. 

“So . . . we’re going away together,” she asked softly, watching as his eyes brightened.

“Yeah, we are. Just you and me . . . anywhere.” He smiled wider, his dimple appearing in his cheek, and she might be a little bit obsessed with it and determined to make it appear a lot more in the future. 

“I’m guessing you’re not eager to get on a plane anytime soon,” she said, leaning in to kiss him softly, trying not to let her fear for his stupid, stupid plan show in her voice. 

He kissed her back softly and when he looked at her, his whole air was apologetic. “No flying for a little while, if we can manage it. I was thinking about a road trip.”

Like in his dream. The dream he had dreamt for so many nights. She felt like she might just turn into a puddle of goo at yet another sign of just how much of a sappy, gentle, sweet man Oliver was. That Oliver was kept very hidden and only a few people got to see it. Thea. Her. And probably no one else. 

It made her wonder what sort of man he might have been, if there hadn’t been the island. Or if he hadn’t grown up with a family fortune. Or if they had met in some other way. 

But honestly, she wouldn’t trade any of those Olivers for the one she had right in front of her. Because it was this Oliver that she had fallen in love with. 

“A road trip sounds perfect,” she said softly, gazing at him. She leaned up to kiss him slowly, sliding her arms around him. Pulling him on top of her. 

He rocked against her, his body so firm and warm and perfect, and she moaned against his lips. “Are you ready now?” 

His smile was dimpled and eager. “Oh, yeah, I’m ready,” he said, pressing against her and making her moan. And that caused him to let out a laugh that she wanted to hear a lot more of. 

But first, more sex. 

She wrapped her legs around him, drawing him in against her. “Oliver . . .” she moaned when he kissed her neck, her eyes falling shut. Then he moved his lips lower, sucking hard on the skin over her collarbone, and she just knew he was going to leave a hickey there, but she so didn’t care. 

“Condom?” he asked, lifting his head. 

“Already?” she asked, her eyes flying open to find him braced on his hands, looking down at her.

Arching one eyebrow, he rocked against her and she felt his cock--his hard, rigid cock--slide against her folds. “Oh, already,” she said blankly, before gesturing towards the drawer of her nightstand. 

Oliver laughed and swooped down, kissing her deeply, before he grabbed a condom. And as she watched him rip open the package, Felicity felt like she was looking at her future.

Because . . . she was. This was all she wanted for her future. Oliver and her, together. 

And she didn’t have to wait even a little bit longer for her future, because it was starting right now. 

End.


End file.
